We stopped on the sideline and I recognized the older kids that hang on the other end of our block. I let go of Ma's hand and started dribbling my ball. I knew most of them only by face. They had a car parked at half court with its trunk open, blasting a Wu-Tang Clan song I'd never heard before. I knew I liked the song when my main man Ol' Dirty Bastard started singing and beat-boxing over the beat doing his ad libs. I couldn't understand what he was saying, but it sounded funny and I liked the beat.
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| Osirus (album) (Photo credit: Wikipedia) |
As high as Wu-Tang get,
Allah, allow us pop this shit
Just like black shoe fit
If you can't wear it,
then don't fuck with it!
He jumped into a ghetto-girl pose, two feet o the ground, learning hard to his left side, popping his hips, arms crossed like he was mocking Ma. He looked at us laughing...I nudged Ma's leg and she looked down at me...
"Andre, let's go." She tucked the ball under her arm and grabbed my hand pulling me back toward the track and we started walking. I tried to wiggle away but her grip was too tight.
"But, Ma, I thought--" I whined but she wouldn't let go...
We got to the top of the hill and Ma loosened her grip but didn't let go. She looked down at me.
"They aren't smoking cigarettes, Andre. They're frying their brains, they're foolish," Ma said.
She looked back down the whill at Stanley and yelled, "Kids have to play her too!"
"Why would anyone want to fry their brain, Ma?" I asked her.
Because they are foolish. You're not like them, you're a cut above the rest. Stay away from guys like them, Andre. They're no-good men."
I didn't understand but I said okay. For whatever reason Stanley and his friends brain-frying made Ma angry. It made her so mad I got stuck walking boring laps around the track with her, every now and again trying to get her to let go of my hand.
~~~
By Marcus Burke
Andre's mother would constantly remind him that he was a cut above the rest... I wondered if Andre understood what his mother was saying--what she was trying to do as she disciplined and taught her youngest. Andre already knew that he was good with the ball and maybe he thought that's what she meant. What he did know was that day he was going to show his mother his new "lefty layup" and then she was going to walk the track while he practiced. Nothing was more important to Andre than practicing... But he had been pulled away from the group of older guys instead...
Or maybe it was because his mother had already smelled that specific smoke that day. Andre thought he had also, but didn't know what it was... He had smelled it floating up into his bedroom from the backyard where his Pop and Uncle Elroy was drinking and blowing that smelly-smoke...
It was easy for Andre to wonder whether they were also bad men, frying their brains... Whenever they were together, they turned on their deep Jamaican accent, real thick so that Andre couldn't follow most of what they were saying, but he did figure out that they called those weird-smelling cigarettes "vitals." And if they were bad, why did his mother and aunt marry them...He was confused about that, but he already had a feeling that something strange was going on between his parents...
But Pop really wasn't there all that much and when he was he never really said much and spent most of his time in the basement playing--he played drums in a band...
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| The kids at school call the "resource room" the "romper room" and they say only Skippys and Speds have to go there. God did not skip over me when he was giving out brains and I never really imagined myself being a special ed kid. At first I hated it, I sat out of window range so no one would see me in there with all the slow kids. I didn't really need extra help all the time, and I hate the way Ms. Lenny talks to me like I'm dumb, always hinting me toward the right answer. There was a bunch of times I tried to tell her that I was okay and didn't need her help nor did I belong in there with the slow kids, but it was like screaming underwater--it did no good... I'm not stupid, class is just boring as hell but most of the time I got all my homework done before I went home. I hardly ever bring my homework home anymore, leaving me plenty of time to play basketball after school. ~~~ |
Reggie was the man to whom Andre looked up to and it was hard not to get close, so Andre was excited when he was invited into their house and then sent for snacks. Andre saw the advantage of getting paid big for small acts, plus he had had his very first up and close second-hand smoke and later decided to try it...
And then there was the fight--happened to be with his best friend but they both knew it had to occur...
Squad Six became Team Seven that day, but Andre had never felt it was right beating up on Beezy...
Then a couple more things happened that changed things...
Pop beat up on Ma and it was Reggie and his crew that came running. Pop landed in jail and Reggie slid some money to Ma...
Basketball was Andre's life... He was good and played ongoing throughout the year That got the attention of one Miss Sade who claimed him as her property for awhile. But it was a secret friendship that developed between Andre and Tunnetta, both of whom went to the same church, that became important to him.
Both of them talked big about being experienced, but they knew it. They began by writing notes in class and then they would go for walks. Andre was using by that time and when her pop got drunk and beat her with a belt, Andre offered to introduce her to Mary Jane, telling her she'd make her feel better...
She sucked again. Held her breath in like a yawn. Her head fell back and she put her hand to her chest, sighing a thick stream of milky smoke. She hudded her sides and started humming. She hit the joint like a champ and I was half jealous, half impressed.
Birds flying high, you know how I feel.
Sun in the sky, you know how I feel.
Breeze driftin' on by, you know how I feel.
She moaned, rocking side to side, waving the joint like an orchestra conductor. She kept singing that one verse like she was in a trance. I didn't want to interrupt her. She took another toke, coughed, and then burped. Her face got pepper red and drooped into her cupped palms. My head was tingle-fried and I was start to feel spaced. She sniffled and I thought she was laughing. I snapped my fingers loud and she looked up. Tears in her eyes, her lips pouted out as her jaw bounced. "I just miss my mother is all. It's lonely in the house without her," she gasped
~~~
They had their first kiss at that time and, without saying anymore about that kiss, they had left, but the next day Andre had asked about that song, which he had not known, and learned that it was "Feeling Good" by Nina Simone and had been her Mama's favorite song...
Pop was out of jail but by that time Andre knew about his second family...and when Pop and Ma got together to plan an outing for his birthday, Andre never told her that his Pop had taken him to his second place and wanted him to take his "younger brother" under his wing. There was no way that Andre could betray his Ma with that... But in his heart, that was the end of any type of relationship with his father...
Sometimes the final break must occur through tragedy. So much more was in store fpr Andre, although he was no longer the little boy that his Ma was able to drag away from being hurt...
Andre, last I saw him, he was heading out...
Marcus Burke's last page notes: "I'd like to give the biggest shout-out to all the underdogs out there who are misunderstood and underestimated, and yet continue to overcome...keep on pushin'"
OK, I'm a sucker for a good story--yeah, you know, where something good comes after all the bad...
This is the author's debut novel, but his writing has already received much attention... I've mentioned Urban fiction, Street Lit---If you're interested in reading a fine example, this book is highly recommended. And for those in Team Seven and other similar groups, I think you'll find Marcus Burke speaking to all of you! Check it out!
GABixlerReviews
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| Harvard Club of Boston Author Series Begins April 17th... |
Marcus Burke grew up in Milton, Massachusetts, just outside of Boston. A standout athlete, he attended prep school at Brimmer and May and was recruited to play basketball at Susquehanna University, where he played varsity for all four years. But a knee injury limited his playing time, so he took up fiction writing instead and was accepted at the Iowa Writers Workshop, where he was awarded a grant in honor of James Alan McPherson from the University of Iowa MacArthur Foundation Fund. He lives in Iowa City, Iowa.
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